Scarab Locket: Re-write
by Blue-Starlight92
Summary: This is a re-write of my fic "Scarab Locket" originally posted in 2007. Set during the events of "The Mummy," Sarah, Daniels' ten-year-old daughter, goes with him to Hamunaptra as a cathartic trip to help her with the loss of her mother. What starts off as a fun treasure hunt quickly turns into a nightmare of an adventure. (Warning for alcoholism)
1. The Adventure of a Lifetime

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Long time no see! It's been a long time since I've written anything for The Mummy fandom. I'll explain what's going on with this: a few months or so ago I decided to go through this account and see what needed to be cleared off. There were things that were either the first chapters of fics that I'd long since forgotten the ideas for, or were just so old (or just plain bad) that I felt they no longer represented my writing like I wanted. But when I looked at the original "Scarab Locket" I couldn't bring myself to delete it. The original fic was my start, and I finished the sequel just before I left for my freshman year of college, and I always thought it was neat that it showed a progression of my writing. But I'd hate for that fic to be the only thing The Mummy fandom sees of mine, especially since it's so old, and looking at it I started to see different things that I could do with it, things that just hadn't occurred to me when I was younger, or I started to realize that there were a lot of things in the sequel that I just hadn't set up at all in Scarab Locket. Also Sarah in Scarab Locket was a completely different person than Sarah in Scarab Key, and I couldn't quite figure out how she would have gotten from point a to point b. So... I decided to re-write it! (I'm keeping with the spirit of the original and writing this one in first person as well) It might take me a while to finish: I'm starting grad school this fall, but I plan to re-write both this one, and Scarab Key!**

 **I apologize for the massive author's note: this will be the only one like this. If you have any questions, just ask, and I'll either reply individually or address it in the next chapter! Note: In case I haven't made it clear enough: Henderson is "Uncle Mark" and Burns is "Uncle Andrew" as per the original fic.**

 **Chapter word count: 4,577**

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Chapter 1

The Adventure of a Lifetime

They were going on a dig, a treasure hunt. This wasn't the ordinary business trip to Dallas or even a trip on a ship up to Virginia; this was across the ocean! To Egypt! I had been to Egypt before, a surprising number of times: my mother had been an Egyptologist, taking trips, usually with me, even as young as I was, while my dad and his best friends, known affectionately to me as my uncles, ran the large ranch we lived on. I hadn't been out of the country since my mother had died of the consumption five years ago, when I was five. A pleasure trip to Egypt was almost completely out of character for my dad, who, although he'd done some traveling with mom before I was born, hadn't been out of the country since he'd taken over the large cattle ranch after my grandfather passed, which had been a few months after I was born.

A pleasure trip was out of character for him, but a treasure hunt wasn't. He and my uncles had been into treasure hunting since they were my age, and a treasure hunt in Egypt was the ultimate dream for the three of them. They'd tried to hide it from me, but they had been doing research, making calls, and there had been more trips to Dallas, where communications were easier, than usual. And hiding conversations from me in the house was next to impossible: there were vents to allow air circulation all over the place, and I was only ten: still small enough to hide in a laundry basket or in the cabinet under the bar.

I had first asked him if I could come along earlier that morning. He hadn't asked me how I had found out, I'm sure he knew already, but the response had been an immediate "no."

Normally a "no" from him and I minded and didn't ask again, but this wasn't a puppy in a shop window or a social event (although if there _was_ a social event I wanted to go to he usually let me: I didn't make friends easily and rarely asked to go to anything that wasn't some daytrip on horseback with classmates) this was _Egypt_ and I wanted to go more than anything!

"What're you brooding about, Little Bit?" my "Uncle Mark" asked me. Apparently he could tell that I had long since abandoned my attempt at drawing… which was a fair guess, since I was sitting with my knees to my chest, staring out the window, and my paper and the book I'd been using as a hard surface were by my feet.

"I want to go with y'all to Egypt," I mumbled.

"Can't hear you, kiddo," Uncle Mark said.

"I want to go with y'all to Egypt," I made sure my voice was audible this time.

Dad sighed from where he was sitting on the couch, a glass of bourbon in his hand. But he didn't say "I told you no, Sarah" like I thought he would; instead he set the glass down on the side table and said:

"Come here, Sarah."

I jumped up and trotted over to the couch, crossing my legs and turning my whole body to face him. He had an expression on his face like he was struggling with something, and Uncle Mark left the room, and I could hear him starting to laugh once he was in the kitchen.

"I said no earlier because this trip is going to be dangerous, okay?" Dad told me. "I know that you've been to Egypt before, and you've been on digs with Mom before, but the place we'll be going is different, you understand? The places Mom took you to had been active sites for at least a few weeks. The place we're going could very well be dangerous: almost no one has ever been there, and I don't want you getting hurt."

I nodded; "I know you're heading for Hamunaptra, Dad."

He sighed, the sound itself saying "I knew it" and I grinned, and then he smiled.

My smile faded a little when I told him: "I just want to go back to Egypt, Dad."

This time his sigh sounded sad. He held open his arms and I crawled into his lap for a hug, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Go play upstairs," he told me when we let go of each other. "I need to talk to Mark and Andrew."

I hopped off the couch and grabbed my drawing paper and pencil from the window seat, before running upstairs.

There were vents literally all over the house, I could open the window in the living room and feel the temperature drop in several of the rooms upstairs, and so the house could be kept cool or heated without much effort, and so we were a pretty popular host for town gatherings (even though Dad wasn't the most sociable person, Uncle Mark certainly was, and Uncle Andrew was at least easy to get along with, according to the town librarian.) All the vents had the added bonus of making it easy to eavesdrop, even though they also made it hard to sleep if Dad or Uncle Mark or Uncle Andrew had anyone over for drinks late at night.

I walked lightly, my stockings didn't make any noise on the floor, and knelt down once I got close, before sliding on my stomach to the vent over the kitchen.

"After this glass, I'm cutting you off, David," I could hear Uncle Andrew speaking.

"Quit hovering, Burns, I'm not an invalid," Dad grumbled at him.

"He's right, Daniels, you-"

"Oh don't you two gang up on me!" Dad snapped at Uncle Mark.

I couldn't help but flinch. Dad always got snappish whenever anyone tried to take his drink away or cut him off and I didn't like it when he was mad.

They were silent for a few moments, but eventually I heard the clink of Dad setting the glass down.

"What should I do?"

"Take her with us," Uncle Mark told him.

"I don't want her getting hurt."

"You let her ride out on Alice's big old horse whenever she wants. She could just as easily get hurt doing that. She has gotten hurt doing that." Uncle Mark was referring to when I'd broken my arm when I was seven, riding out on Mom's old horse, Cecil. Someone had been hunting in the area, and he had panicked at the sound of a gun.

"That's different, I know what the risks are, and she knows the whole area. She's never more than a mile or two from someone's house."

"I think it would be sort of cathartic for her," Uncle Andrew spoke up. I didn't know what cathartic meant but I was assuming it was a good thing. "She's changed a lot since Alice died, David. You've changed a lot since Alice died. I think it would be good for both of you."

I heard Dad sigh. But if he was sighing rather than shooting the idea down, then that was a good thing.

"As far as her getting hurt goes," Uncle Mark's tone was light again, "we've got that Egyptologist coming along with us; we'll get him to help us figure out some part of the city where she can stay in by herself, she's ten, that's plenty old enough for us to not have to watch her all the time, and she can dig around in there. She's not some brat kid, Daniels, she's pretty mature for her age. She'll be fine. Heck, she'll probably end up pulling Burns out of some scrape!"

"Oh, ha, ha," Uncle Andrew said sarcastically, but he wasn't mad.

They were going to convince him. I knew they were. I prayed silently, clasping my hands together. They just had to convince him!

Dad sighed again, and it was his "oh fine" sigh. I grinned, but waited to leave the vent until I heard:

"Oh, alright."

I slid backwards away from the grate, and then jumped up, scampering to my room, grinning like an idiot. I closed the door softly, and then jumped up onto my bed, laying down on my stomach with my book in front of me, drawing paper on the hard cover like I'd been there the whole time. I tried to make my breathing as normal as possible, and keep my expression neutral, like I hadn't heard anything.

It was long enough before I heard his footsteps that I actually had started drawing again, looking at a small stack of books that I had put on the bed to practice where my light and shadows were (Uncle Andrew painted and sketched as a hobby, and he gave me art lessons sometimes.) He knocked twice, and then opened the door. I sat up and back on my legs, waiting for what he was going to say.

"You can come with us," he said, and I jumped up and off the bed to give him a hug.

"Thank you, Dad."

"But," he said, and he squatted so that he was eye level with me, "you have to mind me. I can't have you running off and getting hurt or worse, okay?"

"I will, I promise," I said, and gave him another hug, this time around his neck.

When I let go, he smiled, "now go hug your uncles, they talked me into it."

…

We left not more than a few days after, a large number of suitcases packed into the trailer of our neighbor's, Mr. Schnider, car, and his wife waving goodbye to us from our own front porch. We were going to be gone for some time, and Dad had asked them to manage the ranch. All of our essentials, and a few nonessentials, were packed into those suitcases; nearly every stich of clothing we owned, and a few things besides. Mr. Schnider talked happily (his accent still thick, even after having lived in Texas for some time, but we had long learned how to understand him and his wife) the whole ride to the train station: everything from discussions about the cattle being bred, needless assurances to Dad that the ranch hands would mind him (Dad already knew that) to complimenting me on my dress, which was, along with the hat I wore, new.

"Such a soft blue, so pretty on you, Sarah."

We made it to the station without incident, and the train ride itself was fairly pretty, but boring. It was a few days long, from the middle of Texas to the docks in Georgia, and there wasn't much to do. Reading passed the time for the most part, and Dad helped me with words that I hadn't seen before, but the ride was far too bumpy to draw, which frustrated me.

The voyage across the Atlantic was amazing, as was the trip from Great Britain down the coast of the European continent into the Mediterranean. I wasn't physically sick on either ship, even though I did have problems with dizziness at first, but once I got my "sea legs" I could walk around just fine. There were other children on the ship as well, but I didn't really want to play with them. At home I wasn't a particularly social person, although I did have friends, but on a ship there was no common ground between any of us besides age, and I had no idea what to expect. As a result, I ended up hiding behind Dad or my uncles, and unless one of the other children approached me directly and asked (I was shy, I wasn't mean, I couldn't say no to them directly) I didn't budge. There were a few times that I ended up holding one end of someone's jump rope, or playing catch with someone else, but for the most part I stayed glued to my family.

Cairo was possibly the busiest city I had ever seen. I couldn't remember being in the city before, though of course I had been as a baby, and it was almost overwhelming. We rented a furnished apartment, since it was impossible to tell how long we'd really be here, and it was surprisingly nice, the furniture wasn't sparse, and it wasn't bad quality, either.

Once we were in Cairo, there was a lot for my dad and uncles to do. They needed to meet the people that they'd been contacting all this time, and so I ended up spending my days in the museum. I wasn't about to complain, it was all fascinating! I'd never been able to see relics like these before; the Ancient Egyptian collection that the museum in Dallas had was only a handful of objects, and nothing as fine or as well-preserved as what was in the museum in Cairo. After I spent half the evening gushing about the collections when my dad picked me up the first time, he continued to drop me off there every time they had a business meeting, sometimes with my sketchbook and a pencil, and sometimes not. I knew that once upon a time I might have pouted at being left behind so much, if I thought I could get away with it, but I was so excited about getting to visit the museum every day that for once I was happy to be left behind under the eye of the museum staff, who were first watchful of me (I wasn't kidding myself, I knew why, I was a ten year old kid in a building full of precious artifacts) and then, as I showed up again and again, happy to see me.

The librarian, a woman named Evelyn, was practically a library herself. She knew, to my mind anyway, absolutely everything. She was up to date on all the latest archaeological journals, and could tell me something about literally everything in the museum. I knew that for a fact, one afternoon when dad had told me I would probably be there for a while, Evelyn had taken me on a tour of the museum. I had seen all the objects before, and read what my vocabulary would let me, but with her it was much more fun. She could tell me little things about how the object had probably been used in ancient times, or sometimes about the archaeologist who had found it, though she always reminded me that her stories of the happenings on dig sites were secondhand, since she had yet to have a lot of good experience in the field. I didn't care if they were secondhand or not, they were absolutely fascinating.

And at night I told dad about the different objects in the museum, the stories that Evelyn had told me, and the sketches I had made of the objects. He smiled a lot when I started getting excited about anything I was telling him about, and sometimes he was listening so much that he didn't stop me until past my bedtime. When I was still trying to fall asleep I could hear dad and my uncles talking in the living room. Dad always said something about Cairo being good for me, but I thought it was good for him, too. He didn't drink as much, and he smiled a lot more.

The last day I was in the museum, Evelyn took me around again. It was still a few days before we were going to leave, but it was the last time Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew would have to go meet anyone, so it was the last time they were dropping me off at the museum. I knew I would miss going to the museum, but more than that I would miss Evelyn. It wasn't that she had become a mother-figure to me in that month, no one could come close to my mom in my mind, but it had been so long since a mentor figure had shared the same interests and had treated me like I was fully capable of understanding more than just basic concepts. When I heard Dad talking, after he thought I was asleep, about how I was happier in Cairo than I had been in years, I knew, even at ten, that a big part of that had been because of Evelyn. Listening to her tell stories made me remember why I liked Egyptology in the first place. I wondered if I could convince Dad that we needed to stay for a month or two after we got back from Hamunaptra.

The last few days before we left were fun. When Dad was at the bar, which, even though he was drinking less was still a lot, Uncle Andrew took me around Cairo. The three of them had had a lot of time over the month to explore it and get their bearings, so he knew where he was going. I had gotten a glimpse of it on the way two and from the museum, but Dad had never wanted to get out into the city again after we got back to the apartment each night, so I still hadn't seen a lot of it. We went to the market several times, and there were a few vendors who Uncle Andrew had gotten to be familiar with, and he introduced me as his niece. We ate lunch out in the open, by a fountain or at the base of a statue, and it was fun in the same way a picnic was. Sometimes we went down by the docks, bringing along paper and pencils, and just sat and sketched for a while. Uncle Andrew's were always much better than mine, but he said that was to be expected: I was still learning and I'd get there one day. He always ended up giving me another lesson, praising my attempt at shading a picture of a vegetable cart. I assumed that the drawing sessions were why Dad didn't come with us: he didn't have the patience for it, as he, and everyone else, always said.

And then the big day came: our bags were packed as lightly as they could get (which was pretty lightly, really: Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew were used to cattle drives) and were in hand as we waited at the docks. We were waiting on the guide Uncle Mark had found, and Dad was starting to get annoyed. I was happy enough to look around: there was a lot going on around us, with people carrying all kinds of things onto riverboats, or just trying to get different places. A girl, maybe a few years older than me and dressed far nicer than I ever had been made eye contact with me, and I hid my face in Dad's jacket.

"Do you think he'll leave us on our own?" Uncle Andrew asked.

"No; I haven't paid him anything yet," Uncle Mark replied.

A few minutes later, Uncle Mark called out:

"Hey, Beni!" and I looked up to see a weasel-y sort of man heading toward us. Everything about him, from the way he walked, the way he held himself, the set of his head, to even his voice had a rodent-like quality, and not in a good way. Squirrels could be charming (Mrs. Schieder had a bird feeder out on her porch and the squirrels were forever getting into it, so I had watched them a lot) but Beni's rodent-like qualities were all of the bad, but none of the good. I disliked him instantly.

When Beni reached us, Dad patted my shoulders, silently telling me to turn around and not hide in his jacket:

"Beni, this is my daughter Sarah. Sarah, this is our guide, Beni."

"Hello Sarah," Beni, to his credit, did offer his hand.

"Hello." I took it for as short an amount of time as I could get away with.

Beni retreated, and Dad bent down to talk to me:

"Hey; who fed you a lemon?"

He could always tell when I was being shy or being sour.

"Nobody," I mumbled.

"You don't have to like him, but you do have to be nice to him, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, if nobody fed you a lemon, then why are you pouting?" he teased, and leaned in, under the brim of my hat, to give me a kiss on my cheek that made a silly noise, like the exaggerated kiss sounds actors made in puppet shows. I couldn't help but laugh, and when he leaned back he was smiling: "that's my girl."

The doctor was going to meet us later, according to Uncle Andrew, and so there was nothing left to do but head onboard the riverboat. It was decidedly less high end than the boat we had crossed the Atlantic in had been, but it was a riverboat: it wasn't meant to be lived in for more than a few days. Dad and I had a room together, and Uncle Mark and Uncle Andrew had their own. There were bunk beds, a sink, and the furniture had obviously been relatively nice at some point, but was worn now. It wasn't as bleak as it could be, and there were no bugs as far as we could see, so it was a decent cabin, as far as Dad and I were concerned.

"Sarah, take the top bunk, okay?" Dad said as he tossed his bag onto the couch.

"Okay," I nodded, clambering up the ladder. It was a little claustrophobic, but I didn't have to spend much time on the bed anyway. I jumped back down and put my bag on the couch next to Dad's. "Can I go exploring?"

"Wait until the Egyptologist gets here, then you can."

In the grand scheme of things, the Egyptologist didn't take that long to get there, and his crew of diggers began loading supplies and horses onto the boat. I could tell who the doctor was since he was the only American, and he was also the one shouting orders at all of the men. There were so many horses! Almost as many men as there were horses, but it was the animals that caught my eye. There were several different breeds, mostly Barb's, but a few Arabian's as well. All fine boned and bred for the desert: I knew the breeds but had never seen them in person.

"You can go see the horses when they're settled, Sarah," Dad knew what I was wanting without me having to voice it. Uncle Mark laughed.

Dr. Chamberlain was a nice enough man, although there was a bit too much of a conceited tone in his voice; I wasn't sure if he was talking down to me or not. If he was, I wasn't sure if it was because I was a kid or a girl. But I met him and I was nice and so Dad was happy. He sent me off to go exploring with a pat on my head and I heard him mentioning something about a bar on the ship before I was out of earshot. Even if I hadn't heard him I would have known where to look anyway.

Some of Dr. Chamberlain's men were still in the hold with the horses when I made my way down there. The horses sniffed at me to see if I had any treats on me. I didn't, and so after a few seconds each one would go back to eating the hay that had been provided for them. Some tried to nudge me with their noses, but I pushed them away gently: I knew from experience that a strong enough nudge from a large enough horse could send me tumbling back a good few feet at minimum. One or two of them tried to bite me rather than sniff, but after I moved away they seemed content.

The diggers watched me silently, some laughed softly when one of the horses nuzzled at one of my pockets, its lip moving back and forth, which tickled and made me giggle. One of the men approached me, holding out a quarter of an apple.

"Feed him," he encouraged gently.

I took the apple, and held it out to the horse, who took it and ate it happily, tossing his head a bit as he chewed. He sniffed my hands for more, and when he found a bit of juice, licked my hands, making me giggle. I missed my own horse, Cecil, very much.

I stayed down in the hold until it was time for dinner. As usual, I found my father and uncles at the bar. I hated even being in bars, not so much as a product of my father's drinking as much as it was the noise bars created, and so as soon as I was finished eating, I ran off again. I went back to the cabin to get my sketchbook and pencil before heading back up to a quieter seating area on the main deck. I had passed through it while I was trying to find the bar, and the only other person there had been an older gentleman, reading, and that suited me just fine.

But as I rounded the corner, I got a bit of a shock: there, sitting at a table with her nose in a book was:

"Miss Evelyn!"

She looked up, and her eyes widened: "Sarah! What on earth are you doing here?" she exclaimed happily.

I sat down at the table with her, grinning: "this was the boat my uncle booked. We didn't leave for a few days. But I didn't expect to see you until we got back!"

"My brother came back into the city and we met…" she trailed off for a moment, as if trying to find the right word, "a gentleman."

"A gentleman? How does meeting a gentleman cause one to wind up on a boat?" I couldn't help but tease a bit.

"Oh, alright, he's more of a cowboy than a gentleman, but he cleans up nicely," Evelyn sighed. "My brother found a trinket of his that happens to have a map to a potential dig site inside. He's been there before and agreed to take us."

We talked for a long time, mostly just excitement about our upcoming trips, and a few apprehensions. I told her about Dad's plan to find me a safe place and turn me loose, and Evelyn reminded me that as long as I had my sketchpad, and maybe a few tools, I could still do a lot of good work. She was very impressed with the drawings I showed her: she'd seen all the ones of the museum artifacts, but not my newer art lessons.

Eventually, though, I started yawning, and Evelyn sent me off to bed:

"What would I do if you fell asleep on me?" she teased, "that would be a great first impression for your father: a strange woman carrying you on her back fast asleep!"

I made my way to the cabin, yawning still. I kicked off my shoes and clambered back up to the top bunk without bothering to undress. I hadn't packed a nightgown, and while I could undress to my underclothes, there was no need: I was wearing work clothes, and they didn't rumple easily. Besides, I was too tired.

I fell asleep as soon as I hit the mattress.


	2. Fire and Water

**A/N: Lots of changes to this chapter, too! The original had a word count of 810 -_- Thank you for reading!**

 **Chapter word count: 2253**

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Chapter 2

Fire and Water

When I woke up, it was still the middle of the night and I had a feeling that something was wrong.

It took me a few minutes to figure out what it was, nearly falling out of the top bunk as I tried to wake myself up. It took a few splashes of water on my face before I was awake enough to really process the sounds I was hearing. Screaming. There were people screaming outside, and I could hear faint gunshots.

I was alert immediately, putting on my boots and digging through my father's bag for ammunition. I threw the ammunition, and my sketchbook and pencil, into my own bag and threw it over my shoulder.

Stop. Think. Think about what you're doing before you do it. The only way on or off the ship was from the main deck, so that's where everyone would be. I needed to get to Dad; he would wait until I came to him. The ship wasn't listing, so it wasn't sinking. That left someone attacking or fire as the most likely cause for the screaming. The gunshots could mean either, but most likely meant the boat was being attacked. I could deal with either as it came.

I yanked open the door and realized I was going to have to deal with both. The fire wasn't anywhere near me, but the deck was full of smoke. I pulled my bandanna out of my bag and tied it so that my nose and mouth were covered. I couldn't exactly crawl my way to Dad, so that was the only option to make sure I didn't inhale too much smoke.

I ran for it, and it was a bad idea. I'd gotten reasonably far when I slipped on something wet and fell hard. I heard a terrified neigh, and curled up just in time to avoid being trampled by one of the horses, loose and running along the deck. I got up and kept going. The side of my body that I'd fallen on hurt a lot: I wasn't sure yet if it would bruise or not. I shook my head; now was not the time to be worrying about it.

The smoke was getting thicker, and it hurt my eyes, but I had to keep going. Turning back and going around the other side of the boat would take far too long, and I didn't even know if that way was completely clear. I was almost there, anyway. Almost there. I didn't know what I'd do if they weren't at the bar. It didn't occur to me before I'd started that they might not be: usually where there was a bar, there my father and uncles would be found. But what if… what if…

I didn't need to worry. A few moments later I could hear their yells. Excited yells, whooping. They were having fun. I could hear their guns going off, which explained the excitement.

I put my hands up: they could get trigger-happy and I didn't want to just run towards them. I kept walking and after only a moment I could see the flipped tables by the railing, and then the four of them, Dr. Chamberlain included, hiding behind. Well, only Dr. Chamberlain was really hiding.

Dad saw me almost instantly: "Sarah!"

I ran towards him, flinging myself into his arms. I pulled my bandanna down and coughed to clear my lungs.

He checked my face, my head, to make sure I wasn't bleeding:

"Did you get hurt?"

"There was something wet on the deck and I slipped and fell. My side's tender."

"Where were you?"

"I was asleep. I woke up when I started hearing gunshots."

"You came all the way from the cabin?!"

I nodded. He hugged me tightly, and kissed my forehead.

"Good girl. Get behind me!"

It was easier to calm down, even with the gunshots. I was used to this, I usually went with them when they went hunting. Dr. Chamberlain was clearly uncomfortable, which made me want to giggle, though I held it in. He just looked so scandalized that it was hilarious.

After a few moments I realized that the fire was getting worse, spreading more and more. What had only been a few licks of flame coming up from the hold was turning into more of a problem on the rails, and the smoke was getting thicker. I tugged on Dad's shirt.

"I know, Sarah," he laughed. He was in his element: shooting was the most common pastime back home, and despite how much he drank he was still a good enough shot to impress and terrify most of the boys in town. "We're fine for now."

We were about to _not_ be fine if we stayed any longer, but I knew better than to backtalk.

A man in a white suit appeared from around the corner, where I had come from, going immediately for the railing before stopping to stare. I had seen him before: he'd sat down to play cards and drink with Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew just before I'd left.

He grumbled a bit, but cut himself off as one of the invaders ran out of the cabin towards him, literally on fire. His robes were engulfed in flames and he looked like a fire monster out of a fantasy book, his face stony as he walked toward the man in white. He looked like he couldn't feel any pain, but I could see the burns, see the robes becoming part of his skin, but he just kept walking!

I screamed and hid my face in the back of Dad's shirt, and I felt Uncle Mark shift before he started shooting. I looked back up when I heard a loud ripping sound: the man on fire was falling off the boat, ripping the canvas that blocked an opening in the rail and taking it with him.

I wanted to leave, wanted to be off the boat. I'd take a chance with any hippo or crocodile over being burned alive.

There was a loud snapping sound, a sound that loud could only be part of the boat's main structure giving way under the heat, and a burst of flame burst out from the open cabin door.

I screamed again, but Dad was hauling me up and to the open side, and I took a deep breath even though my heart was in my throat as we fell over the side. It seemed like we would never hit the water, like we'd fall until a breeze caught my skirt and blew us to the riverbank.

We did hit the water, though… but I was still moving down. Down, down, down, and the river was too dark to see anything. I couldn't feel Dad's hand, and I panicked. My skirt was heavy, my boots were heavy, and I had heavy ammunition in my bag. It was pulling me down further and further, and even when I kicked and thrashed upward it seemed to only be keeping me from being pulled further down, rather than propelling me up. It seemed like I would never reach the surface.

Something grabbed my hair and yanked hard, and a moment later I felt a hand on my arm pulling me up. Finally, finally, I broke the surface. I could feel tears running down my cheeks as I inhaled.

"Sarah! Sarah!" Uncle Andrew was the one holding me, "it's okay, it's- David, take her!"

Dad swam with one arm around me, and I couldn't stop crying, even when we reached a point where he could stand. He picked me up, hugging me tightly.

"Sarah, you're okay. It was scary, it was very scary, but you're safe now. You're very brave, and everybody's okay. You're okay, I'm okay, Uncle Mark and Uncle Andrew are okay. Everyone's safe."

He talked like that until we reached a point where I could stand with water no higher than my waist. It was more chaotic here, the hired diggers were running around trying to catch their horses. Uncle Mark went to go help with a few of them, the horses were frightened and it was only because of the amount of people on hand to help that they were able to be caught. I stayed close to Dad as we walked further up to dry ground. I was still shaking, and my whole face felt tingly, but now that I was able to walk, it was much easier to calm down.

"This is a messed up country," Dad grumbled, before we made it to dry ground.

We didn't get going for several hours. There were horses to find and calm, equipment to reorganize, and we had to figure out where we could buy supplies that had been lost. And Beni had, apparently, gotten us on the wrong side of the river; I thought Dad might turn purple from yelling at him. The man saved his job, and stopped a potential fist-fight (which, judging by how small Beni was and how many fights I had seen Dad get into, would have been a beating more than a proper fight) by quickly mentioning that he knew of a place where we could cross the river safely, and resupply at the same time.

The place Beni knew was a few hours ride, fortunately up-river, which was the way we'd been going, so we didn't have to backtrack. The sun was fully over the horizon when we got there, but just barely, and already the desert was swelteringly hot. Dad had to take his jacket off and put it over me, since I'd lost my hat with the riverboat. I leaned back against him, for once happy to be riding in front of him rather than on a horse by myself, and while it was no less hot under the jacket, at least the sun wasn't beating down on my face and head, and so the heat was easier to handle.

When we got there, the trading post, of sorts, was an underwhelming, but welcome, sight. It was only a few tents, with several men selling tools, camels, and other basic supplies, but it was what we needed.

While Uncle Mark, Uncle Andrew, and Dr. Chamberlain purchased more supplies, Dad led me over to a tent where a boy and his mother were selling hats and clothing. They didn't have much, but I didn't need much. The hat I found was far too big for my head, but it was in good condition, and Dad bought some scrap material to stuff the hatband inside with, so that it would sit correctly, along with a shawl, since I'd also forgotten to put on my coat when I'd left the boat cabin, and it was long gone, too.

Beni made up for his mistakes: not only were we able to replenish the supplies in full, but the trading post also boasted a small ferry. It was nothing more than a raft, but it was enough to get everyone and their horses across the river, in several trips, without having to swim.

…

Traveling in the desert, for more than a several hour stretch at a time, was boring, there was no way around it. I had been on cattle drives, or long horseback rides, but I was used to having something to look at, something to pay attention to. Out in the desert, there was nothing. I busied myself with braiding what I could reach of the horse's mane, taking it out, trying something new, over and over and over again. What I could reach, sitting sidesaddle in front of Dad, was not very much. I listened to what Dad told me, or what he, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew talked about. Some of it was stories, most of it was plans.

We were moving at a steady pace for most of the trip, but then hurried the last day and night of travel when Beni realized how far we still had to go. Apparently Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew had made a bet with a man who was also traveling to Hamunaptra. It took a lot for me to not roll my eyes, I didn't want to get in trouble, but they always did this, or at least Uncle Mark or Dad did and roped Uncle Andrew into it. At least it wasn't unexpected.

We didn't slow down until the last morning, as the sun was coming up. I was glad for the slower pace: I was used to my own horse's easier, steadier gaits and, compared to him, riding this horse was like riding a jumping deer. Not to mention that, for all the modifications that had been made to the saddle for me, it was not very comfortable, and after a few days I was cranky.

I could see four figures on camels approaching us, and even though I squinted I was unable to see who it was until we were close enough to speak. Evelyn! And the man in the white from the boat! Evelyn had said that her brother was coming with her, and looking at the four of them, I figured the man in white must have been him.

Just as I was opening my mouth to call out to her, Uncle Mark called out to the man who must have been the cowboy that Evelyn had mentioned:

"Remember our bet, O'Connell! First one to the city… 500 cash bucks!"

Oh dear.


	3. Anubis' Protection

**Chapter Word Count: 2,131**

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Chapter 3

Anubis' Protection

As soon as Dad had our tent set up, I took my sketchbook and pencil, and, at Dad's reminder, some water, and was off. There was so much in the city! I wanted to see all of it, I wanted to draw all of it. Evelyn had told me, before we knew that we were going to the same place, that the more I could draw and document the better, and so I was determined to get as much of the city as I could on paper.

There were so many different statues! And pillars too, some of them were still standing but a good number of them were toppled, and, I could see even from the ground, they all had carved designs. It was easy to get close to the toppled ones and look closer, and I could guess that the detail on these would be the same as on the ones still standing. I liked the statues best, though. Even though their faces were a little worn I could still see their expressions and facial features. There were both mythical creatures and people, I wasn't sure if they were all pharaohs but since they were outside for all the world to see I could guess that was the case. When I got up close to one to see the detail, I had to take my hat off so I could close enough to make sure I was seeing what I thought I saw: flecks of paint!

I ran off back towards where both camps had been set up. I had to show Evelyn! I went back the same way I came, it took me a few minutes because I had gone out pretty far, and I had to cross through our camp to get to Evelyn's-

"Sarah Daniels!" Drat. Dad noticed.

I stopped, and walked sheepishly over to where Dad and Uncle Andrew were standing. "Yes, sir?"

"What did I say about hats?"

"Hats stay on while the sun is out."

"Or?"

"Or I'll get too hot and die."

"That's right," he said, and tapped the top of my head. "Where's yours?"

"I took it off so I could see something better. I was gonna put it on again when I got back! I just got excited and wanted to go get Evelyn!"

"Put it right back on as soon as you get back to it."

"Yes, sir!"

I ran off towards Evelyn's camp again, but didn't get very far before:

"Sarah!" Uncle Mark, who was standing farther away with Dr. Chamberlain, had noticed, too.

…

Evelyn was excited as I was about the paint, and helped me try to find what had been the painted design. It took a bit of doing to get even the basics, and we'd definitely need to look at it more, but for now I marked it lightly on what I had drawn of the statue, and made little notes about the colors.

"That's wonderful, Sarah," Evelyn smiled as she looked at the completed drawing and the notes on it. "This would be a good addition to the museum's archives."

I grinned, and couldn't help but blush a little. Uncle Andrew, Uncle Mark, and Dad always complimented my drawings, but hearing that it would be good for research was something no one had ever said.

Evelyn wanted to show me a statue nearer to the camps, and so we made our way back. The statue itself looked mostly like the others, and there weren't any paint flecks, but there was:

"Look," Evelyn showed me on the pillar behind the statue, "it's an inscription!"

"It's pretty clear!" I said excitedly. It was, especially for being out in the elements.

"Do you think you can read it?" Evelyn asked. She knew I had a little bit of reading ability: I'd been reading what I could of my mom's old field notes, and I'd told her so back before we left. She'd helped me with it a bit, in preparation for the trip, but I was still learning.

"Maybe, it might take me a while, though," I said, looking at it.

I started to translate, and got absorbed in it so fast that I barely noticed when Evelyn told me she was going inside. It was slow going, I could translate a little bit, but mom's notes didn't have everything. I didn't notice the sun getting higher in the sky overhead or the rising temperature, or even footsteps walking towards me.

"What'd you find, Little Bit?" Uncle Mark's voice broke my train of concentration.

"Evelyn found an inscription, and I'm translating it," I pointed to it. "I think it's a prayer for protection, but I'm not sure."

"Huh," Uncle Mark bent down to look closer at it, "well that's alright. We're ready to head in. The doctor says he found a good spot for you."

I jumped up, ready to go.

I ran to Dad as soon as he was in sight, "I kept my hat on this time."

"Good girl," he smiled. "What'd you find?"

"Evelyn showed me a pillar with an inscription on it, and I was trying to translate it," I told him. "And before that I found flecks of paint! I found flecks of paint on a pillar and Evelyn helped me figure out what the design used to be!"

I found the page in my sketchbook, and handed it to him so he could see.

"Well look at that! That looks nice!" he told me.

"Evelyn said that it would be good in the museum's research archives!"

"How about that! Ten years old and on your way to being an archaeologist already."

I laughed, and Dad handed me my sketchbook back.

We headed inside. It was too dark to see anything at first, I would have run straight into one of the diggers if he hadn't been wearing white, but I blinked a lot and my eyes adjusted. Dad kept his hands on my shoulders, and so I stared at the walls, I could see painted designs faintly under the cobwebs and dust, as he turned me where I needed to go.

We came to a small room with a low entrance, and one of the diggers passed Dad a torch. He ducked to go in and I followed him.

"Okay, Sarah, you have to stay in here, alright? The diggers checked out the room already and the doctor says it's safe for you to be in here by yourself. When we find a spot to start working, I'll come back and get you so you can see where we'll be. After that if you want to show me something you can come find me on your own, but come straight to me, okay? Don't wander off."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, I know you'll be fine," he kissed my cheek, left the torch with me, and ducked back out of the room.

There were no objects in the room, but the walls were covered in reliefs. At first I could only stare at them, completely in awe. They were beautiful, showing life scenes: fishing, men playing on small rafts in the Nile, and even a hippo hunt.

Dad came and got me before I really started to draw, and helped me memorize the way to where everyone else was. He let me gawk at the statue, the legs and base of the Anubis statue I'd seen outside, for a few minutes before taking me back, and that was when I really got to work.

I decided to make sketches of the reliefs before doing too much detail. I took up several pages, trying to make sure to give myself enough space. I wanted to show Evelyn these as well, and so I wanted them to be good enough for her to see the details that were there. I did soft lines first, to make sure everything was true to the relief itself, and then darker lines once I was satisfied. The flatness of the reliefs made it easier for me to replicate, but at the same time I was trying extra hard to be accurate. It took me longer to get the placement right, but by the time I was darkening the lines, I was happy with it. Uncle Andrew would probably like it, but I was really eager for Evelyn's opinion. When we went back to camp, I'd go show them to her. I was hoping she was serious about them being good for research: I wanted to follow in my mom's footsteps, although I was very nervous, but excited, about the prospect of real archaeologists looking at my sketches.

I didn't know how long it took me to finish the sketches, although by the end of it I was hungry and so I could guess it had been a while. And I could tell, to do the details, I'd need more light. One torch was enough to see by but barely enough to draw by, and my eyes were sore already from how long I'd been drawing in low light. The diggers had a lot of torches with them, and Dad was always telling me not to ruin my eyes, and so I could probably get one from him.

I did like Dad had told me to and went straight to him, although I was aching to explore a bit more, but I did take my time. I wondered how long we'd be here: long enough to find something, this was a treasure hunt after all, but would there be enough time for me to sketch more? I wanted to draw as much of the city as I could, and if it took me as long as the single room was taking to do the same number of panels, it would be a while.

The halls were less decorated than the room, and I wondered if they had been later additions. Half of the Anubis statue that Dad and everyone were working on being inside a room made me think so, but Evelyn would have a better idea of it than me. I wondered where Evelyn and her group were working and what they'd found, but I didn't dare try to find them: Dad would probably make me stay in the tent for the rest of the trip if I wandered off.

Everyone was concentrating on something when I walked in. Dr. Chamberlain was directing several diggers and everyone else, including Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew, were staring hard at what the team was working on.

"Dad?"

I had spoken just loud enough for them to hear, but all three of them jumped.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, Sarah, come on," Dad nodded, motioning me over.

"Scared us, Little Bit," Uncle Mark said, but he was smiling.

"What do you need, kiddo?" Dad asked me.

"Can I have another torch? I'm starting to work on details but my eyes are sore," I told him. "Also, I'm hungry."

"We'll eat in a little bit, I'll give you another torch after that," Dad told me. "Want to stay here for a bit and watch? We think we might have found something."

"Yeah," I nodded.

The diggers had gotten far enough along that they were starting to use crowbars to break the seal around one of the panels at the statue's base. Everyone was staring at them: the other diggers, Dr. Chamberlain, Beni, Uncle Mark, Uncle Andrew, Dad… everyone. Dr. Chamberlain was clearly getting impatient, his voice rising in volume until he was shouting the orders at the three diggers. Dad was gripping my shoulders tighter and tighter, and I had to drop my pencil because my grip was getting tight enough to nearly snap it in half. The tension, the waiting, only got worse when the diggers had broken through the seal completely and were starting to pry the panel off. We were all staring, and staring…

Dr. Chamberlain shouted one more command and right at that moment there was a loud sound like a rush of air… which morphed into the three men screaming.

They turned around, and I screamed as well: they were… melting! I couldn't take my eyes away from them, they kept screaming and screaming in pain and their skin was dissolving off of their faces!

Dad covered my eyes with his hand and hugged me tightly before he picked me up and I started crying immediately. I could still hear the screaming even as Dad ran out of the room with me in his arms, my face pressed into his shoulder, and the other diggers were shouting, trying to do something for the screaming men.

No wonder there were so many incantations around the city… thieves had just as much to worry about as the dead.

* * *

 **A/N: To be honest I'm not completely thrilled with the last line of this, but I'm trying to start and end each chapter in the same places as the original. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Sand and Hoof Beats

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long, I've started graduate school, and I've been very busy with projects and classwork. This chapter has changed a lot from the original, so please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading, and a very big thank you to RavenDeathGirl0909 for reviewing chapter 3, and a super massive thank you to Kitty Daniels for reviewing every chapter and giving me a lot of encouragement to keep going!**

 **Chapter word count: 3158**

* * *

Chapter 4

Sand and Hoof Beats

It took a long time for me to stop crying, clinging to Dad's shirt in our tent, and it took longer still for me to calm down fully. Uncle Andrew helped a lot, going through my sketches for the day and pointing out where I'd done good shading or good depth. He asked me to explain the sketches of the reliefs and that was what calmed me down the most and got me back into a talking mood: explaining the activities and the significance of the people in the reliefs I'd drawn.

By dinner time I was able to eat, and laugh at Uncle Mark's jokes, and the story he was telling Dr. Chamberlain, about him getting in a fight against an entire bar. I knew the story very well, I had been there, and I couldn't help but laugh as he exaggerated everything and made up about half of it.

"And then," Uncle Mark was into it, using big arm movements and hand gestures, "right when I thought I was about to get myself killed with this big old ranch manager getting ready to bash my head in, this little one-"

He paused to pick me up and put me on his knee.

"This little one picks up a bar stool and-"

"I didn't do that!" I laughed.

"You didn't?" Uncle Mark was grinning.

"I didn't! The bar stools are as big as I am, I couldn't do that!"

"Are you sure? Because the way I remember it you swung the bar stool like a baseball bat and hit the guy in the head and told him to beat it."

I shook my head, "I picked up my water glass, dumped it over his head, and then started crying."

"Are you really sure?" Uncle Mark teased me. "Because I remember…"

He continued on with his story, and Dr. Chamberlain looked like he didn't know if he should be horrified or amused. Dad and Uncle Andrew kept egging Uncle Mark on, offering up things that he had supposedly told them before, so that by the time the story ended I had saved Uncle Mark five times and chased the entire bar out by swinging the bar stool over my head like a mace.

After a while, when it was starting to get late, I was sent off to bed. I couldn't fall asleep, though, even after I wrapped myself in my shawl and the blanket on my bedroll. I tried, but every time I closed my eyes I could see the diggers who had died. I could see their skin burning before it disappeared completely and…

I shook my head, and rolled over so that I wasn't facing the tent opening. If Dad couldn't see my face he wouldn't know I wasn't asleep. Maybe if I got tired enough I could fall asleep without thinking too much. I thought a walk might be better, but I didn't want to get up and go ask after Dad had already told me to go to sleep. I listened to Dad, Uncle Mark, Uncle Andrew and Dr. Chamberlain talk, and eventually I could hear Dr. Chamberlain leaving the fire to go to bed.

Not too long after that, I could hear someone walk over to the fire, and when he spoke, I realized it was the cowboy with Evelyn's group, O'Connell. At first he and Dad, Uncle Mark, and Uncle Andrew weren't talking about much, but after not too long they started comparing the day's work. O'Connell told them that the warden who'd come with them had died. He'd gone off by himself, but after a while they'd heard him screaming and… he'd just run headlong into the wall and died.

It felt like all the blood drained from my face. He'd been by himself. What in the world had he been doing? What had he found? Had it been something obviously dangerous, or had it been something seemingly safe? Had he been messing with something or had he just been minding his own business? I had been by myself all day, and while Dr. Chamberlain had said that the room I was in was safe, did he really know? Or if something had found the warden, could it find me too?

I was starting to realize why Dad had been so reluctant to take me.

Dad came to bed not too long after O'Connell left, and of course I was still awake. He noticed in about a second, and sighed:

"Sarah, you need to sleep."

I rolled over so I was looking at him when I spoke: "I can't. Every time I close my eyes I see the diggers who died."

Dad sat on his bedroll, and I sat up, abandoning my blanket to crawl into his lap. He hugged me tightly and sighed again.

"Your mother was always better at this. The whole nightmares thing. I can make the physical stuff go away and keep you safe from that, but I don't know what to do about stuff in your head."

I hugged his neck, "I think you do okay."

He hugged me even tighter.

After a long moment, I couldn't help but smile. "You could always sing."

He pulled away so I could see his face: "I think my singing might _give_ you nightmares," he said with a straight face, but then started laughing a moment later, and I laughed with him.

"Can I go for a walk?" I asked him a few moments later. I wasn't tired, not by a long shot, and I was hoping now that he knew I couldn't sleep, he'd let me.

I could see him weighing the good and bad points of that, he knew the benefits but was deciding the dangers, and after a second, he nodded.

"But you take a torch, and your shawl, and if you see even one snake you turn around."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

The city wasn't as scary at night as I thought it might be, at least, not outside. I didn't see any snakes, which was strange, and I looked for snakes almost more than I looked around to see where I was going. It was so quiet, I couldn't hear any animals at all, even our horses and camels were almost silent, bedded down and content. After the constant noise of home, the cicadas, crickets, and bigger animals like coyotes, it was a little unsettling.

It was cold, and I wrapped my shawl even tighter around my shoulders. The light from the torch was easy enough to see by, so I didn't trip, even when I was climbing up and down the fallen pillars and walls. I tried not to look at the statues very much: the torch light made them look weird, and more than a little scary, like they were watching me.

A few minutes later and I decided to head back. I was far enough out, Dad would get worried, I was getting cold, and the statues were starting to make me nervous; I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I clambered over the fallen pillars as quickly as I could manage. I nearly put the torch out on accident several times but I was able to yank it back up every time. That was the last thing I needed: to try to find my way back in the dark.

It was because it was so quiet out that I could hear it. A faint rumbling. I couldn't feel it, but I could hear it very clearly. I walked much more carefully, trying to figure out where it was coming from. The closer I got to camp, the louder it was, and when I could see the glow of the campfire, I put the torch out so I could see out into the desert beyond the walls.

It took me a minute before my eyes could adjust properly, but once I did I could see them very well: at least twenty men on horses, most of them, if not all, holding weapons that shone brightly by the light of the moon. For a second I couldn't think of what, or who, but then I thought back to the men attacking the riverboat.

"Dad!" I shrieked loudly, and ran. Everyone was asleep! Everyone was asleep, and if they didn't wake up before the men on horseback got to the camp…

Putting the torch out had been a mistake. I could see the glow of the fire from the camp, and I could see the shapes of the walls and fallen pillars, but I wasn't coming back the same way I had gone out. It was much slower going than it should have been, and that was wasting too much time!

I cried out when I tripped and fell off a section of wall. I hit my arm in the process and it hurt like mad. It wasn't broken, I knew that without having to think about it: I'd broken my arm before, and while this hurt, it was nowhere near as bad as that had been. I kept running as fast as I could, but the sand was loose and hard to move in, and the fallen pillars were not easy to climb over quickly.

I climbed on top of another section of wall, and at last I could see the campfire clearly. But I could also see the horsemen, and they were nearly on top of the camp!

I screamed as loud as I could, hoping desperately that if Dad wasn't already awake, that it would get him up.

I scrambled down off the wall and ran towards the camp. Already there was so much noise: the horses were frightened and the diggers were running around and yelling, trying to find weapons.

"Dad!"

"Sarah!" He was awake!

He came running towards me, and scooped me up. He looked around for a few seconds, and I could feel him breathing hard, before he started running again. After only a few moments he set me down and pushed against a door to-

"Dad, no! I don't-"

"Sarah, hush!" he snapped.

I was already starting to cry by the time he had pushed the door to one of the inner corridors of the city open, and pushed me inside.

"Sarah," his voice was much gentler, "Sarah, you'll be okay, I promise, but I can't have you getting hurt. I'll come back and get you just as soon as it's over, stay right there!"

He pushed the door closed again, and everything went dark.

I started crying harder, and I could hear it echo. I pulled my shawl around me and muffled the sound as best I could. I knew that Dad was just trying to keep me from getting hurt outside, where even if I wasn't being aimed at, a stray bullet or a bad aim on a knife throw could easily find me. But there was something inside Hamunaptra. There was something here and it had found the warden and killed him. It wasn't part of his body failing him, a heart attack or a stroke, O'Connell had said the warden had been _screaming_.

The air was stale, and thick, and heavy. I had no torch, and while I knew my eyes might adjust to the dark if I would just open them, I didn't. Every sound became skittering, or breathing, or the moaning noise of something that hadn't been breathing for a long time. Dad had told me to stay put, but I couldn't move even if I wanted to. I was completely frozen, my eyes shut tight and the fabric of my shawl half shoved in my mouth from trying to muffle the noise my crying was making. There was sand in the fabric, and I ended up coughing, which only made the noise worse.

Dad, hurry, it's gonna find me!

My cheeks were tingling and I was breathing too fast, which only made me shake and cry harder. I was making too much noise, anything would be able to find me, but I didn't dare open my eyes. I didn't dare.

It could have been only a few minutes, it could have been several hours, but it felt like eternity before the door scraped open again.

"Sarah?" It was Dad! I still couldn't move, I was shaking too hard, my breath still too fast and my cheeks still tingling. "Sarah!"

He picked me up and like he had turned on a switch, I could move again. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried. The loud, scared, noises that I had been making before.

Dad hurried out of the corridor, clinging tightly to me as he sat on the ground. He was completely still for a few seconds before he gently unhooked my arms, leaning back so he could see my face.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" He said it in his calm voice but he looked scared.

I tried to tell him but all I could do was keep breathing. Too fast, hiccupping, breaths. My cheeks were tingling and it felt like my face was stuck that way. I stuttered too much, I could only get out the beginnings of words.

Dad held out his arm behind my head and when he pulled his hand back, he had Uncle Andrew's water cask.

"Sarah, drink some water," he pushed the water cask into my hand.

It took me a minute, water dribbling down my chin and onto my shirt, but on the third try I got my face to work right.

"Okay, now deep, slow breaths," he put my hand on his chest and breathed. The slower my breaths got, the calmer Dad looked.

Finally, I was breathing normally. I was still crying, but I wasn't crying hard.

"Okay," Dad took a deep breath and let it out, "what happened?"

I told him everything. I still stuttered a bit, but I got it out. I told him what I'd overheard before, what I'd thought about when I'd heard it, and what had happened inside the corridor. He didn't say anything until I finished, and then he hugged me tightly, cradling the back of my head with one of his hands.

"It's okay, now, Sarah. You're okay. Nothing's going to happen now."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he stood up.

"I'm gonna get her to bed," he said softly. "Will you two…"

"Yeah," Uncle Mark's voice was just as soft. "We'll take care of it."

"I'll go get Dr. Chamberlain," Uncle Andrew said. "We should be able to get everything sorted out pretty quickly."

"Okay," I felt Dad nod.

Dad carried me back to the tent, and I crawled in when he set me down. He moved his bedroll right next to mine. When he laid down, I laid down right next to him, scooting closer until he put his arm over me.

The crying must have tired me out plenty, because I fell asleep in less than a minute.

…

Even if I had only overheard what had happened to the warden, I wouldn't have wanted to be by myself in the city again, but after what had happened the previous night, when everyone was getting ready to go in again in the morning, I was dead set against it.

"Sarah, you can't stay with us, either," Dad was trying to figure out what to do. "Especially not after what happened yesterday."

"I don't want to be by myself," I didn't have a solution.

Dad sighed, and looked around, and seemed to get an idea.

"Stay here," he told me, and walked off in the direction he'd been looking in.

Uncle Andrew bent down to talk to me: "are you sure you can't stay by yourself, even for a little bit?"

I shook my head.

"What if I stayed with you for an hour, went back to our site for two, and then came back again?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to be by myself at all.

A few minutes later, Dad came back with Evelyn. Uncle Andrew stood up.

"Sarah," Dad looked hopeful. "Would you want to go with Miss Carnahan today?"

I looked at Evelyn, "can I?"

"Of course," Evelyn smiled. "Do you have your sketchbook?"

"Can I go get it?"

"Of course, we're not in a hurry."

I ran off, back to the tent, and heard Dad start talking to Evelyn again.

"Thank you, really, I didn't know what else to do."

"It's no trouble at all, Mr. Daniels…"

Evelyn said more, but by then I was out of earshot. I grabbed my sketchbook and pencils, and ran back as fast as I could.

"I'm ready!"

"Okay," Dad knelt down next to me. "Now you stay safe, and you mind Miss Carnahan, okay?"

"I will," I nodded.

"Good girl," he hugged me and kissed my cheek. "I'll see you tonight."

I hugged him back, and then took Evelyn's hand when she offered it.

"We've got an exciting day ahead of us, Sarah," Evelyn told me as we walked back towards her camp. She was smiling, and I couldn't help but smile too. "We're opening up a sarcophagus!"

"Really?" I almost bounced with excitement. "That's amazing!"

"I know! I've never seen one when it's first been opened, much less been the one to do it."

"Where did you find it?"

"You'll never believe this… it was in the ceiling!"

"What?" my mouth dropped open.

Evelyn told me all about how they'd come across it, and by the time she finished we were back at her camp.

"Mr. O'Connell, Jonathan, this is Sarah Daniels," Evelyn introduced me. "Sarah, this is Mr. O'Connell, and my brother, Jonathan."

O'Connell told me to call him Rick when I shook his hand. Jonathan bent down to talk to me:

"So you're the Sarah I've heard so much about!" his smile was infectious, and even as shy as I was, I liked him immediately. "I've heard that you are one of the best research artists we could possibly find."

"Uncle Andrew is the one teaching me how to draw. He's a lot better than I am."

"But he's not the one sketching everything here, is he?"

"No, he's not."

"So, see, you're the best one!"

I couldn't help but giggle, and Jonathan smiled even more. He stood up, and walked on my other side as we headed to where they'd found an entrance into the city.

Rick showed me how to get down the rope, going down first to demonstrate.

"Sarah, go ahead and throw your sketchbook and pencils down, it'll be easier that way."

I did like he told me to, and saw him catch them. Jonathan went down next, and then it was my turn.

"Ready to go, Sarah?" Evelyn smiled at me.

I was still nervous, but now I was excited again, like I had been yesterday. "Ready!"

I grabbed onto the rope, and started down.


	5. Death is Only the Beginning

**A/N: I had such lofty aspirations for how much writing I would get done over Christmas break. I was going to get four chapters written and have them backlogged so updates wouldn't be so few and far between. That didn't happen.**

 **Thank you to** **RoseThorn1890, RavenDeathGirl0909, and Kitty Daniels for reviewing!**

 **Chapter Word Count: 2248**

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Chapter 5

Death is Only the Beginning

"Woah!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing off the walls as I took in the room.

The room was larger than any of the rooms I had seen so far in Hamunaptra, and was lit by light bouncing off several mirrors, which I hadn't read about before. There were several tables, and what looked like some sort of fire pit. No tools, but the reliefs on the walls told me what the room was.

"A… preparation room?"

"Yes!" Evelyn said excitedly.

"I've never even heard of one like this before: all the ones I've heard of were in the open air."

"I know," Evelyn told me. "I hadn't heard of any being closed like this before now; it doesn't make sense to, with the drying process."

"I've come across one that was walled in," Jonathan said. "But it had been closed off at a later date than when it was used."

"I wonder if that was the same with the city," I said, as we walked through the room to the corridor. "The legs on Anubis are underground, and none of the other statues out in the city are. Also, if the sarcophagus you found was buried at the base of it…"

"Then it might have been outside behind a walled space and had a roof put on it later," Rick nodded. "3000 years, give or take. It's possible. It's been used as an army base enough that I'd believe it."

Evelyn and Jonathan theorized as they led me through the city corridors. I would have talked, too, but I was trying to memorize the way to the site. The prospect of getting lost in the city was even scarier than it had been before.

The air was stale down here, more than it had been around Dad's site. But we were lower underground, so it made sense. The relief's down here were still visible, though like where I had been yesterday, a bit of paint could still be seen. Already I was excited at the prospect of sketching these, too. Would the lower levels of the city be in even better condition? It was a possibility: they wouldn't have seen sunlight.

"Here we are!" Evelyn told me as we came to an open doorway.

The first thing I saw was the sarcophagus, sitting in the middle of the room. They had cleared the stone away from the sides of it, so the area around it was clear, and I couldn't help but stare at it. It was huge! About as deep as I was tall, and at least six feet long.

Rick lifted me up so I could see the inscription properly.

"He who… is that must or will?" I looked at Evelyn.

"Will," she smiled.

"He who will not be named," I read slowly.

"Exactly!" Evelyn looked proud.

"Nice job," Jonathan nodded, and Rick murmured agreement, before putting me back down.

The sarcophagus was locked, but Jonathan had the key. The sarcophagus being locked was very strange; in everything I'd read, or from what I'd seen in Mom's notes, sarcophagi weren't usually locked. One had never been found that had a lock on it, broken or not.

It bothered me that this one was locked, but I didn't say anything. Evelyn wasn't commenting on it, so maybe they'd already discussed it yesterday. They wouldn't open it if they thought it was anything dangerous.

It took at least an hour or two to get the lid off. Rick and Jonathan were able to muscle it, but Rick was the only one who had done much physical labor recently. I was too small to even be able to get proper leverage, and so Evelyn and I stood off to the side. The lid was clearly heavy, and would have been put on by a team of people, so it was no surprise that it took Rick and Jonathan a while to get it off. Once they had it most of the way, though, the weight, and gravity, did the rest of the work for them: the stone just fell off.

Evelyn and I were more than happy to let them have a break while we tried to figure out how to get the smaller coffin out.

"I think…" I started. "I think if I get in there, I can get it up enough to put a rope underneath it. Then all we need to do is pull on the rope when Rick and Jonathan are ready, and the head will lift up enough for them to pull it out."

"Let's try it!" Evelyn was clearly excited about this. I hadn't seen her this giddy even at the museum.

Evelyn helped me sit on the rim of the sarcophagus, and I lowered myself down as lightly as I could.

"Will you hand me a rock, please?" I asked Evelyn.

"Sure," she nodded. "What size?"

"Um… around the size of a standard brick, maybe?"

I was able to lift the head of the coffin up enough to get the stone under it. It was difficult: while the head wasn't super heavy, I didn't have much room to work with, but once I was able to get my hand under it enough to have a good grip, it was easy enough to brace myself and lift enough to shove the stone under the head.

"Okay, I'm ready for the rope."

I put the rope underneath the shoulders and upper back of the coffin, and then scrambled out of it.

"Good plan, Sarah," Rick told me when he and Jonathan came over to look.

Evelyn and I were able to pull down on the rope, and the upper part of the coffin raised up at an angle just like I'd hoped it would.

"Okay, got it," Rick said when he and Jonathan had a hold on the coffin, and Evelyn and I could let go of the rope.

"Oh, I've dreamt about this since I was a little girl!" Evelyn was giddy as Rick and Jonathan dragged the coffin over to the wall and let it lean against it so it was upright.

"You dream about dead guys?" Rick turned to her.

I couldn't help but giggle even as Evelyn quickly changed the subject. We all knew what she meant, but the joke was too perfect, something Uncle Mark would have said.

Rick winked at me and I smiled as I went to stand out of the way with Evelyn.

The coffin hissed from pressure, and I frowned. I had no idea what that could be. The hissing got louder the harder Rick and Jonathan pried the lid off, until it came off and fell to the floor with a noise that reminded me terrifyingly of the noise the salt acid trap had made.

But that wasn't all, the escaping gas, whatever it had been, made the mummy inside shudder and move, and we all yelled in surprise. I fell backwards onto the ground, only calming down once I realized what had happened.

"I hate it when these things do that!" Evelyn grumbled

The mummy inside looked… wrong. It didn't look like any mummy I'd seen before, and Mom had had a large collection of photographs from her field work. Most mummies were dried out, it was why they were preserved so well, but this one hadn't been.

"Hey, look at this," Rick knelt down next to the lid, and we all followed him.

There were marks all over the inside of the lid, some deeper than others, and I had a bad feeling.

"These marks were made with… fingernails." Evelyn confirmed it.

The mummy we'd found had been buried alive. Evelyn found a few scratches that were deep enough that we took them to be writing.

"Death," Evelyn read slowly, "is only the beginning."

I sat back on my heels, looking up at the mummy. This was way too creepy. Someone who'd been dying scratching a message like that into the coffin lid?

Everyone mellowed a bit after the coffin opening. Well, everyone except Evelyn. I grabbed my sketchbook, and sat down near the coffin to start drawing. It was frustrating: I wasn't very good at drawing people yet, and whatever had happened to this person in death had contorted their bone structure slightly. I made attempt after attempt but it just looked wrong!

Rick sat next to me for a while, watching both me draw and Evelyn work, but he and Jonathan decided to call it a day pretty quickly. Evelyn was theorizing while she examined the body and she was getting pretty gruesome.

"If he was buried alive then the organs would still have…"

"Okay!" Rick stood up, "that's enough mummy talk. I'll go get the fire started."

"Yeah," Jonathan followed him, "all that, uh, theorizing has made me thirsty. I think it's time for a drink."

Evelyn rolled her eyes as they left.

"Boys," she looked up at me in a fake conspiratorial tone, and I giggled. "O'Connell is an ex-Legionnaire and Jonathan studied the same things I did in college, I would think they'd be able to handle 'mummy talk' a lot better."

"I dunno," I said, sketching the outline of the coffin in the hopes that giving myself something to work in would make drawing the body easier. "Dad and Uncle Mark have never been able to listen to it either, and they deal with human and animal injuries all the time."

We were both silent for a few minutes: I was working on a new attempt at the head and shoulders, and Evelyn knew I needed to concentrate. I couldn't tell if the body was becoming less gross to me the more I looked up at it, or if I was just used to how it looked already.

It was nearly an hour before I finally sat back with a loud exhale.

"Okay… does this look right?" I asked, shuffling forward on my knees to show Evelyn what I'd gotten done so far.

"Sarah, this is fantastic!" Evelyn looked at the drawing and up at the mummy. "It's a great likeness!"

"Good," I smiled. "Cause I don't want to draw it again."

Evelyn laughed.

"I just can't figure out why he would have been buried alive!" Evelyn grumbled. "Buried at the base of Anubis indicates he would have done something horrible, but we know so little about the scale of punishments…"

"What if it was a curse?" I asked. "Hamunaptra legends have always mentioned sons of pharaohs being buried here, but since this was clearly a religious city, what about priests?"

"If he was a priest who went against his god and committed an offense…" Evelyn's voice faded until she was mumbling, searching again.

I stared at the scratches on the inside of the lid, putting my sketchbook down for the time being. If the mummy had been a priest that would have explained the message carved in the lid… and if he were cursed, that would give it a whole new-

"Sarah!" Evelyn exclaimed.

"What?" I yelped, jumping a bit. She'd taken me by surprise.

"I found it!" Evelyn said excitedly, and I turned around.

"Found what?"

"Curse proof!" she grinned, holding up a small, dark, object.

"A scarab skeleton!" I finally realized what it was after a moment of staring at it.

Evelyn stood up and began to pace, playing with the scarab skeleton in her hands as she spoke.

"Alright, what do we know?"

"He was buried alive," I said from my spot on the ground. "With no amulets."

"Buried alive with no amulets and the spells on his coffin chiseled off," Evelyn said. "That doesn't help; it applies to almost every curse I've read about."

"The scarabs were locked in the coffin with him," I said. "They would have eaten each other once the body was gone."

"Which is why there are so few of them," Evelyn nodded. "Scarabs does narrow it down a bit further, but…"

"And both the coffin and sarcophagus are locked," I said. "Like they didn't want him getting out."

Evelyn stopped and looked at me, "what?"

"The coffin and sarcophagus are locked, like they didn't want him getting out," I repeated.

"They were afraid of him!" Evelyn exclaimed.

"None of my mom's research materials ever mentioned a locked coffin or sarcophagus," I said. "Maybe he was cursed with something we've never seen used before?"

Evelyn was frozen for nearly a whole minute while she thought, and then her entire body seemed to light up as she smiled.

"I've got it!" she practically yelled. "The homdai! Our friend was a victim of the homdai!"

"The homdai?" I asked her.

She explained it to me quickly, the different pieces that made her think it was the homdai curse. They all fit, it had to be that!

"It's the homdai!" I jumped up excitedly, and Evelyn hugged me tightly.

"Oh, Sarah, you're wonderful! I didn't even think about it until you phrased it that way!"

I smiled widely, hugging her back. As horrible, and scary, as the homdai curse was, it was amazing to have actually come to a conclusion!

"Grab a few more of the scarabs," Evelyn said as we broke apart. "Let's go show the boys!"

I handed her a few from the bottom of the coffin and took several myself, before grabbing my sketchbook and pencils.

We hurried out of the interior of the city, practically giggling as we went. I couldn't wait to tell Dad everything.


	6. Amun Ra, Amun Dei

**A/N: What if I told you I had an update schedule... What if...**

 **Thank you to RoseThorn1890 and, as always, Kitty Daniels for reviewing!**

 **Word Count: 4,025**

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Chapter 6

Amun Ra, Amun Dei

Dad was laughing when Evelyn and I got to the campfire, and it made me smile even wider. Dad was only like this around other people occasionally, I didn't think I'd seen him smile like this in town at all this year. At home, sure, but not with people he'd only just started to talk to. He had a flask in his hand, but he wasn't drinking out of it, and that was rare, too.

He patted his thigh and sat up so I could crawl into his lap, careful not to accidentally stab him with one of my pencils.

"Look at these!" Evelyn said excitedly as she sat down next to Rick. "Scarab skeletons- flesh eaters. They were inside our friend's coffin."

I held a couple of the skeletons out so Dad, Uncle Andrew, and Uncle Mark could see them. Dad just wrapped his arms around me, but Uncle Mark and Uncle Andrew picked up a couple to look at them closer.

"They can stay alive for years, feasting on the flesh of the corpse," Evelyn explained. "Unfortunately for our friend, he was still alive when they started eating him."

Uncle Mark made an expression of absolute disgust and very carefully handed it back to me. I couldn't help but giggle.

Evelyn explained about the homdai curse, what it was and why it wasn't used.

"How did you figure it out?" Dad asked her. "From what I've heard, a lot of those curses have a lot in common."

I looked at him real quick: I didn't know he'd heard or read anything about curses.

"Sarah helped me," Evelyn smiled. "A lot of the curse elements are similar to others, although the scarabs narrow it down much further, but the sarcophagus and coffin were locked."

"Locked?" Uncle Andrew looked up.

Evelyn nodded. "Fortunately we'd come across the key already and were able to open it, but I've never come across a lock on a sarcophagus before now."

"Huh…" Uncle Mark hummed, Uncle Andrew nodded, and Dad looked contemplative.

"Sarah did some wonderful sketches of the coffin and the mummy," Evelyn smiled, changing the subject slightly. "I'd love for her to make copies and put them in the museum files."

"Really!" Dad smiled down at me. I noticed Uncle Andrew and Uncle Mark with similar proud expressions and hid my face. Dad tickled my side, making me shriek, until I took my hands away.

"I want to see them after dinner," Dad told me.

"Speaking of dinner…"

Evelyn, Rick, and Jonathan went back to their own camp for dinner, and Dr. Chamberlain came to join us. I ran around helping Uncle Mark cook dinner… although most of my help was doing the legwork to go get things, since Uncle Mark didn't want to get up.

"It's like that when you get old, Sarah. You have to pick a spot and stay there."

Dad rolled his eyes and hit him with his hat. "You are thirty-three."

I couldn't help but laugh.

They discussed what to do tomorrow over dinner. Dad and Uncle Mark were all for moving on immediately in the morning, but Dr. Chamberlain was adamant about staying in the room to see if they could find out anything else about the Anubis statue. Benny slipped away at some point and no one noticed or missed him.

By the time Uncle Andrew was stoking the fire, they'd decided to compromise. They'd finish up the statue room in the morning, and spend the afternoon and evening going deeper into the city. Dr. Chamberlain was optimistic that they'd find more artifacts, and treasure, the deeper they went.

"We could easily spend the afternoon just trying to find a new site," Dr. Chamberlain said. "I believe this city is one of the largest I've ever come across; I've never seen one that goes so deep underground."

There were a lot of things in this city that no one had ever come across before; but I didn't say anything out loud.

"And you'll stay with Miss Carnahan, won't you?" Dad looked at me.

I nodded. "Evelyn said we'd probably stay in the same place for a while."

Dad raised his eyebrow.

"They said I could call them by their first names!" I defended myself.

Uncle Mark laughed, and Dad just nodded his head.

"Alright, alright. Go get your sketchbook. It's almost time for you to go to bed, and I want to see it."

I jumped off his lap and picked up my sketchbook from where I'd dropped it on the ground earlier. I climbed back in Dad's lap, and Uncle Andrew moved to Dad's other side, so he could see.

I flipped through what I'd worked on that day. Most of it was small, like the locks, or easy, like the sarcophagus. I pointed out what Evelyn had talked about before dinner.

"See? The coffin was locked, too," I pointed out the lock on the sketch. "The way Evelyn explained it to me, I think the homdai is probably the curse that was used. There are too many things about the burial that Evelyn has never seen before, and I haven't come across in any of Mom's notes or her old books."

I flipped the page again, to the sketch of the mummy, and all three of them groaned in disgust.

"Is that him?" Uncle Mark asked.

I nodded.

"Ugly son of a gun," Dad murmured.

"I think the scarabs might have messed up his bone structure while they ate him," I said, pointing to the jaw. "See how it's messed up? I don't know how they managed that, or maybe he was deformed. Evelyn and I haven't really talked about it."

"And the texture," I continued. "I don't really know how to describe it he's still kinda… shiny? Evelyn said that when his body was decomposing, the scarabs were still eating it, and that-"

"Okay," Dad said quickly, bouncing his knee. "That's enough mummy talk."

Uncle Mark looked a little queasy.

I couldn't help but giggle, thinking of Rick and Jonathan earlier in the day, but I stopped.

"Really, though, Sarah," Uncle Andrew said, and he had his teacher voice on, so I passed him the sketchbook. "You did really well on the proportions…"

Dad slid me off his lap and walked away to help Uncle Mark put everything from dinner back in order. He could tell when an art lesson was starting, and he did not want to stick around for it.

Uncle Andrew went back through what I'd shown them in reverse order. He told me what I'd done well on: proportions or the smoothness of lines, and starting to add texture to the sketches; as well as what I needed to work on: shading, mostly. I had trouble keeping my angle of light consistent.

I don't know how long we sat there, which was common during Uncle Andrew's art lessons; I never noticed the time going by, with Uncle Andrew going over each picture I'd worked on during the day with me, but after a while Dad pulled us out of our bubble.

"Sarah, it's time for you to get to bed. It's late."

I pouted, but I didn't argue. I gathered up my sketchbook and pencils, and headed back to Dad's and my tent. I was almost out of earshot when I heard Uncle Mark say:

"Boy, she is Alice exactly."

I grinned and kept walking. Being like Mom was all I wanted.

Back inside the tent, I rolled out my bedroll right next to where I knew Dad would put his; the desert was really cold at night and even though Dad snored a bit, he was really warm. Before I laid down, I checked for scorpions. We'd kept everything rolled up during the day for a reason, and I hadn't seen any in the city yet, but it never hurt to be careful.

I laid down and wrapped myself up in the blankets. I had thought I wasn't tired, but I was out like a light.

I woke up just a bit when I felt Dad step over me, but I was still out of it enough that if he said anything, I didn't hear it. I did, however, see when he set something down near my bag.

"What's that?" I asked, my voice sluggish.

"It's a jar," Dad told me. "We found several today. We'll show you in the morning, Sarah. Go back to sleep."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, and closed my eyes again.

When I woke up for the second time, Dad was picking me up, and there was a loud noise, something like the wind rushing by but not quite, outside the tent.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"I don't know," Dad said, but his heart was beating fast as he carried me outside.

Everyone was looking toward the horizon, hoping whatever was coming was coming on our side of the city where we could see it before it got here. The sky was dark, although we could see out into the empty desert by the moon, and it was freezing outside. I shivered, and Dad held me tighter.

The sound stopped, and it was quiet for one moment… two… and then with the faint scream of thousands of insects a black mass rose from the hills on the horizon into the sky.

"Run!" Rick yelled out, and no one thought twice.

Dad tried to keep me in his arms, but I knew it was a bad idea. Dad could run every bit as fast as Uncle Mark and Uncle Andrew, but he was falling behind. I was ten years old and even if I was small compared to most of the other kids in my grade, I was still heavy.

"Dad, I'm too heavy!"

"No you're not!"

"Dad, I can run, put me down!"

He stopped for only a moment and held tightly to my hand. Running together, we caught up to everyone else pretty quickly.

My heart was in my throat when I realized where we were going to have to hide. I didn't want to go into the city interior at night: there was something in there and it had killed the Warden… and I had felt something last night, I knew it! Not physically, but I knew there was something down in the maze of tunnels.

But we didn't know what was chasing us and Dad wasn't about to let go of my hand.

Just before Dad and I reached the door, I recognized the noise the insects were making. Locusts! It was a swarm of locusts; annoying to deal with, but not deadly. I had never seen a swarm that big, but at least we knew what it was.

Dad and Uncle Mark and Uncle Andrew didn't stop running, though. Maybe they hadn't heard it, or maybe they didn't want to deal with them and they had enough momentum already that running further was better. I wasn't sure.

A right off the main corridor, a left from that. I wasn't sure where we were going, if Dad or anyone even knew for sure, and I couldn't speak to ask. It took enough just to breathe enough to keep going. I could feel a stitch coming on in my side but I knew I'd fall behind and slow Dad down too much if I let go of his hand.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Uncle Mark yelled.

"I ain't waiting around to find out!" Dad replied.

We made another turn, left again, before I couldn't take it.

"Dad! Dad!"

Mercifully, thankfully, Dad and Uncle Mark stopped, the men from the digging crew who had followed us inside coming to a stop right behind us.

"What's the matter?" Dad was breathing hard.

"My," I was panting too hard to talk for a moment. "My side. Stich in my side."

"Are you okay?"

I nodded. After a moment I had caught my breath enough to speak. "I heard," I paused to cough, my throat was dry and swallowing was hard. "I heard the bugs."

"What were they?" Uncle Mark asked.

"Lo-Locusts," I got out. "It was just a big swarm of locusts."

Something was wrong. Dad and Uncle Mark looked at each other, and I couldn't see Dad's face but I hadn't seen Uncle Mark look that scared in a very long time.

"What? What is it?"

Uncle Mark looked around suddenly. "Burns. Where's Burns?"

Dad looked around, his movements suddenly almost frantic. But his voice was almost calm:

"We need to go find him. Now."

There was a rumbling under our feet. Fortunately we had torches, and so could see, after just a second or two, the mound rising in the sand back the way we had come.

This was bad. I had an idea, and it was bad.

The mound burst into a squealing mass of beetles, pouring out over the sand of the corridor like muddy water.

"Scarabs!" I screamed.

Uncle Mark cursed, and everyone ran. Dad grabbed my hand again.

"We'll get away from these things, get back outside, and go back through the way we came!" Uncle Mark said, and Dad nodded.

I hoped that Uncle Andrew had just turned around and gone back outside. Or at least hadn't gone very far.

I let go of Dad's hand at one point so that I didn't stumble so much. Dad was running so quickly that I thought I might fall. I wasn't able to keep up with him completely, but the digging crew men were still behind me.

There was a sharp split into two corridors ahead of us, rather than a let out into a different one like we'd seen before. The left path, that I was on the side of, I could sort of see inside from the torch light. It curved sharply, and I thought that might be better; the scarabs might not be able to navigate that turn as quickly as a person could.

I ran into it, and almost immediately the hall went dark. Everyone else had gone the other way. I kept running; I wasn't sure if there were more following me or not, but I could feel panic bubbling up in my chest. They'd gone the other way. Dad had gone the other way. What if something happened to him? To Uncle Mark? Would they lose track of where they were, running like that?

I was by myself. I was completely alone, there was something bad in the city, and I couldn't see where I was going. But I had to keep going, I didn't know if any of the scarabs had followed me, I couldn't hear any squeals, but I was breathing hard, air coming out loud, and my heart was pounding, the blood rushing in my ears every bit as loudly as my breathing.

I wasn't breathing enough, or I was running too fast, but either way I had to slow down when the stitch came back in my side. I held my breath for a moment; the blood was still rushing in my ears but I couldn't hear the squealing from the scarabs.

I chanced it and slowed to a walk. After a few seconds, when my heart began to calm, I stopped hearing the sound in my ears, but still couldn't hear anything following me. Uncle Mark would probably tell me I was too small to make a good meal; the scarabs had gone after the major targets.

I needed a plan. I needed to get out. There was something here and the feeling of dread hit me even sharper than it had last night. I had to keep moving; I knew if I stopped moving I wouldn't start again.

I didn't know where I was in the city. That was the problem. We had explored so little of it that now we were going through it blind. The only thing I could do was keep walking and hope that the path looped around somewhere.

After a few minutes, I realized that the corridor was going up-hill, towards the main hallway. I hurried, wanting to get out of the city. I didn't know why the locusts, or why the scarabs had only started moving up to the surface now, and at that moment I didn't care. I just wanted out. There was something in the city and I wanted to be away from it. The path I was running along was pitch black, I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face, and I was almost desperate to see again.

Another moment, two, and then I could see moonlight. I smiled, and ran to the opening that connected the two passages.

Just as I came out into the moonlit hallway, there were gaps in the ceiling letting the light in, I heard voices. I wanted to get out of the city, outside where it was safer, but at the same time I knew the voices belonged to someone I knew, whether it was Dad, the men on the digging crew, or Evelyn. It would be better to stay with them, even if the inside was the most dangerous place to be. And besides, what if someone needed help? I could at least navigate them back outside.

I hurried toward the voices, not running but not walking either. Fortunately, I heard another noise when the passage split, and was able to pick which way it was coming from. At least all of this was close enough to the top to be lit by moonlight. My stomach didn't churn so much. I wasn't afraid of the dark, but the dark at home never felt like the pitch black of the city.

I heard small moans at another split, and hurried toward them. I rounded the corner and found:

"Uncle Andrew!" I nearly squealed in delight.

He was okay! He hadn't been eaten by scarabs, and hadn't gotten that lost in the city. He was crawling on the ground, head down; he must have tripped and lost his glasses. I didn't know how he'd gotten separated, but that was a question for later.

"Sarah," his voice was muffled, slow. In the back of my mind I knew that was wrong but I didn't think about it, I was just so happy to see him.

"Let me help you find your glasses," I said, kneeling down to look. I couldn't find them, which was weird.

"We might need to get your spares and come back," I said, crawling next to him to help him up. "Did you see where they-"

I had grabbed his arm, throwing it over my shoulders. At that moment, he'd turned his face toward me and…

I didn't know what to do. My brain just stopped. Uncle Andrew's eyes were gone. Something had just…

I started shaking. I thought I might throw up but I didn't. I couldn't move for a good few seconds until I heard Uncle Andrew moan in pain. Then urgency slammed into me like a punch in the stomach and I stood almost too quickly.

"Hang on," Uncle Andrew groaned. It was the same muffled, clumsy, speech from before, and I realized what had happened.

I didn't cry. I could feel tears pricking my eyes but I didn't cry. I didn't throw up, either, although I wasn't sure how I managed that.

"We need to get out," I said. "We need to get out, and we'll wait for Dad, and he'll… He'll make everything okay."

I knew the way, but we were moving far too slowly. Fear and a sense of urgency coursed through me to the point that _not_ running was almost painful. I had been right, there was something in the city. Something had killed the Warden and maybe the same something or maybe a different something had ripped out Uncle Andrew's eyes and tongue. We needed to get out, we needed to leave the city. It wasn't just my imagination, there was really something here-

Voices. Torch lights.

I froze. My heart was pounding, and I heard Uncle Andrew groan. I could feel his pulse, we were both standing there like frightened rabbits, too scared to move. We had made it to one of the main passages, but there was no other split that the people might go down. Whoever it was, they were going to find us.

The voices got louder, the light brighter, and finally they rounded the corner.

The men in black from last night.

I burst into tears.

Several of the men hurried forward. Two of them helped Uncle Andrew stand properly, instead of staying half slumped over me.

"We're going to get you out, sir," one of them told Uncle Andrew.

The third one knelt in front of me.

"What's your name, little one?"

I was already breathing too fast, my cheeks tingling, and at first all I could do was hiccup. But I managed, syllable by syllable, to talk.

"Sarah."

"Sarah, do you know what happened here?"

I shook my head quickly, my voice still coming out in stutters, "there's, there's something in the city. I don't, I don't know what."

The one talking to me, turned around and said something in Arabic to the group of men. They hurried out, and the two supporting Uncle Andrew moved him much quicker than I could have.

"Is there anyone else inside?" the man asked me.

I nodded.

"We'll wait for them outside, come with me."

He took my hand and led me. I still couldn't stop crying, couldn't slow down my breathing. My cheeks were tingling so much I could barely feel my face, and I couldn't stop shaking.

Outside, one of the other men stood with me, his hands on my shoulders, behind a line of the men. It wasn't that long, not more than a minute, before the men in black were pointing guns at the entrance to the city. Evelyn, Rick, and Jonathan came running out, stopping quickly at the sight of them, followed by-

"Dad!"

The man holding me let go, and I ran into Dad's arms. He was okay, he was okay. I hadn't seen him look this frantic, ever, but he was okay.

"Sarah!" he hugged me tightly, talking softly as the man in black who'd talked to me started to speak.

Dad pulled away only a little at first to check that I was okay; he didn't look surprised when the man in black started to talk about a creature in the city, but he pulled away again when the two men who'd been supporting Uncle Andrew brought him forward.

"You bastards!"

"What did you do to him?" Uncle Mark gritted his teeth.

"We saved him!" the man said quickly. "Saved him before The Creature could finish his work!"

I nodded, my movement more fluid now. I'd stopped breathing so fast when Dad had hugged me. Dad and Uncle Mark looked at me, and I nodded again.

After the man had finished talking, the men in black walked into the city, and we were left alone.

Dad held me for a few minutes longer, but let go of me to help Uncle Mark support Uncle Andrew as they walked over to where our campfire had been.

The whole camp was a flurry of packing. The essentials were taken down and thrown into the bags they'd come in, and the horses saddled in record time.

I didn't speak until Uncle Mark and Dad were trying to figure out how to get Uncle Andrew on his horse. He wasn't boneless, but he was in so much pain that he could barely hold himself upright, much less control a horse.

"I can ride in front," I said softly.

Dad and Uncle Mark looked at me.

"We can share the same saddle, and I can control the horse."

Dad nodded.

In only a few minutes we were leaving, Uncle Andrew's feet tied to the stirrups and secured to my waist. The horse was unsure, but they were all nervous, and he got moving just fine.

I had never been so eager to leave.


	7. He's Here

**A/N: No, I'm not dead. And yes, this is an actual update. Explanation at the end!**

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Chapter 7

The trip through the desert going back was even longer than the one leaving. There was no river boat to get us most of the way there this time, and so it was horses and camels for the entire way, and the trip back was days longer than it had been going. There wasn't much we could do for Uncle Andrew except keep his eyes covered, and give him Dad's drink supply to lessen the pain. After a day or so, Uncle Mark had to be the one to untie Uncle Andrew and I on the few occasions that we stopped, cause Dad's hands had started shaking too badly, but no one said anything.

Most of the trip was silent: we were spread just barely too far to be able to talk easily, although Dad and Uncle Mark stuck close to me, and even if everyone had been within easy conversation distance, no one really felt like talking.

Several days of silence, several days of stopping only to eat and water the horses, with only brief murmuring during these breaks. I had always been, well, not athletic, but fit enough to do ranch work, and yet by the second day of nearly non-stop riding I was having a very hard time. My back and everything immediately connected wouldn't stop aching, I knew I was getting saddle sores on my legs, and my hands were stiff from the changing temperatures and constantly gripping the reins.

But Uncle Andrew was having to deal with that, and the pain from his eyes and tongue, so I said nothing, I just kept riding. The horse was well mannered, and wanted to stay with the only herd it had, so even when my mind drifted, nothing happened. After several days through the barren desert, when we finally saw the Fort as more than just an outline in the sky, I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or collapse. Finally, our journey was over.

We rode into the city fairly quickly, and made our way to the building we all had rented apartments in. It was bizarre, coming back like this: the city was completely unchanged, the same people in the market, the same people walking by, and yet our circumstances were completely different. Once the horses and camels were unpacked, put away, and watered; Rick helped Dad and Uncle Mark get Uncle Andrew up the stairs to our rented apartment, and I hobbled up the stairs behind them. My legs didn't want to work right, after being on a horse for so long, so navigating stairs took a lot more thought than it should have.

"Someone needs to run and get-"

"I'll call for a doctor," Evelyn, who had been just behind me, said before Dad could stress too much.

"Will you take her?" Dad asked Evelyn.

"Of course," Evelyn said, and patted my shoulder. I turned and looked up at her.

"Go get a change of clothes, okay?"

I nodded, and didn't say anything. I knew that Dad would say that getting Uncle Andrew comfortable was "men's work" and that he and Uncle Mark probably would want to talk to the doctor on their own. Besides that, I was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to bathe and sleep, so I was not about to protest being sent off.

Evelyn showed me to her apartment, and I barely had the energy to take a quick look around before she helped me to the bathroom. She started running the bath water and gathering towels and things while I took my shoes and socks off, grimacing at the flecks of sand that flew off of them, and the sand and grime that were still on my legs.

"I'm going to be in the other room," Evelyn told me. "I need to call the doctor. Don't fall asleep in the bath, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, and undressed when she closed the door. I was glad I had worn work clothes to Hamunaptra; even these would need the washing of their life to get all the sand out, but at least they'd hold up to it better. I tried my best to keep all the sand in one spot on the bathroom floor, but wasn't as successful as I'd hoped I'd be. My only consolation was that Evelyn was most certainly just as sandy as I was.

I scrubbed as much as I could on a single tub of water, but eventually it became too murky, leaving just as much sand as it took away, and I had to let the water drain and fill the tub part way again to finish. I didn't want to fill the tub the whole way again and waste that much water, but filling it part way did the job. Finally, I could move without feeling sand sliding against my skin, and I was clean everywhere I could see, with the sand washed out of my hair, too.

I let the tub drain and got out to dry off and change. I'd brought one of the dresses I usually wore to school in with me, it was lighter than work clothes but not as nice as church clothes. Socks, and shoes, and I was finally free of getting sand all over me. I cleaned the tub and tried to at least get all of the sand I'd left on the bathroom floor into one pile.

Evelyn was in her main room when I came out of the bathroom.

"Sarah, look at you! You look lovely!"

I smiled, a bit shy at the compliment, and thanked her, before I asked:

"Did you get ahold of the doctor?"

Evelyn nodded. "He should be getting here by now; I'm sure your dad will come and get you when they have news."

But Dad coming to get me took a long time. Evelyn was in and out of the bath, and trying to distract me with research notes, but I couldn't stop thinking about Uncle Andrew. Now that we were out of the desert, safe in the city, I couldn't stop thinking.

Uncle Andrew was an artist. It wasn't what he had gone to college for, but as people in town would say, art was in his blood. I had no doubt that Uncle Andrew could learn to navigate the house with the help of a cane, I had no doubt that Uncle Mark and Dad could train Chance, Uncle Andrew's horse, so that Uncle Andrew could ride safely on his own. He'd be whispered about in town for the rest of his life, but everyone liked him. On the surface, Uncle Andrew could manage.

But he was an artist. He was always painting or sketching or thinking about doing either one. His room at home was full of canvases, both finished paintings, paintings he was working on, or completely blank. All of our framed paintings hanging everywhere else in the house were his. The rich ranchers in the area paid him for family portraits: since everyone in town was having portraits done with cameras, getting Uncle Andrew to do a family painting had become a sort of mark of wealth and spare time. Dad joked that Uncle Andrew spent just as much time painting Chance as he did riding him.

And now he was completely blind.

It was impossible to process.

I jumped up every time I heard a knock on the door, but the first few times it was Rick and Jonathan going in and out. After what felt like an eternity, the knock was finally Dad.

"Hey kiddo," Dad said as soon as I saw him. His voice was softer, and he looked tired. He looked from me to Evelyn. "Thank you."

"Of course," Evelyn said, her smile was small, but warm. "She can stay with me any time."

I walked over to Dad, and he nodded in thanks, before looking down at me. "Are you hungry?"

I nodded. I hadn't thought about it for most of the day, but while Evelyn was distracting me, the hunger had hit me.

"Can I see Uncle Andrew?" I asked as we walked down the hall.

"Yeah, but just for a few minutes. He's tired."

Uncle Andrew turned his head towards the door when Dad opened it for me. He was sitting in one of the chairs in the living room, with proper bandages on his eyes instead of a sandy handkerchief. He was sitting up, not slumped over in pain like he had been on the journey back, so the doctor had clearly given him something.

"Uncle Andrew" I called out to let him know it was me, and hurried over across the living room to his chair.

He reached out for my hand, and I moved to meet him. Now with pain medication, his grip was much steadier, more like it had been.

"We're almost packed up," Dad told Uncle Andrew. "I'm gonna take Sarah to get some lunch and then Henderson and I will see about tickets home."

Uncle Andrew nodded, and then spoke, his words halting and distorted, but there:

"Have you told her?"

"Not yet," Dad replied.

"Do you want me to stay with you longer?" I asked him.

"No," he shook his head, but smiled. "Go eat."

Dad led me out of the apartment, and down into the city. Once we were out in the open, I held his wrist with both hands and stuck close to his side as we walked along the street. The sky was completely covered with clouds and they'd gotten even darker since we'd gotten back. There was something in the air, not quite electric, that made me nervous. It wasn't just the prospect of a potential thunderstorm (although I wondered if Cairo had even seen a thunderstorm) even though that would have been enough back home to have me inside and wrapped in blankets. There was something in the air that I couldn't identify and it felt like the inside of Hamunaptra had; dangerous and lurking, creeping up on the city.

Dad held me close, occasionally putting his arm behind him so that I was protected when we had to push through a group of people. The restaurant wasn't far, and even partially connected to our building, but our apartments were in one of the busier parts of the city. It took a few minutes to get through the crowds of both tourists and locals alike, and I just clung to Dad's wrist and stayed as close as possible.

I stayed quiet while Dad found us a place to sit and ordered food for both of us, and bourbon for himself. When he had a swallow of it he sighed in what sounded like relief. I didn't say anything: Dad got mad whenever Uncle Mark or Uncle Andrew brought up how much he drank, and at the moment, all of us were ready to snap like twigs in the wind. If Dad got annoyed now it wouldn't be good.

Once I'd eaten, it was easier to deal with both the noise level of the bar and the feeling of dread that loomed over me. The feeling was still there, but it was easier to put it in the back of my mind. I didn't know what was going to happen and I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't ignore it completely, but at the very least I didn't focus on it.

"What's going to happen with Uncle Andrew?" I asked finally.

Dad sat still for a moment before he spoke.

"We'll get him a cane so he can walk without help. Drag out his old clunker of a typewriter. He's a good typist, so as long as we put a few little spots on some keys or something like that he can figure it out. Then I'll put up new doors in the dining room so he doesn't have to go upstairs."

I just nodded. That sounded like as good a plan as anything. Dad was quiet, and looked like he was still thinking about it, when Uncle Mark came up to the table.

"Let's go see about those boat tickets."

Dad looked at me. "Do you want to stay in the museum?"

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted right now was to be by myself. "Can I go with you?"

"Sure, kiddo."

When we made our way to the docks, I sat out of the way while Dad and Uncle Mark asked about the next boat leaving. It didn't really matter where at this point, although straight back to America would be preferable, but I knew we would take anything that would just get us out of Egypt and on the way. There were likely more boats leaving from the ports in Europe, at least.

A few minutes later I saw them walking back towards me. Uncle Mark looked frustrated, and Dad was muttering under his breath. When he got closer I could hear words that I knew he would tell me never to repeat.

"What did they say?" I asked.

"There isn't a boat leaving Egypt until tomorrow morning."

I knew at that moment that something else was wrong. Yes we needed to get going but even Dad wouldn't have been angry over leaving tomorrow instead of today.

But I didn't ask. Dad would have told me if he thought I needed to know.

I walked between them, holding both of their hands, as we walked back to the bar. The city was still crowded, and the sky was only getting darker. It was worrisome to look at; I didn't think this part of the world got tornadoes but I wasn't sure. At the very least something was brewing up in the sky, and it didn't look like it was going to be pleasant. Even if it was just a normal storm I would have still been nervous, but with the ominous feeling rolling over the city like a blanket, I wanted nothing more than to be inside.

Once we were inside the bar, I could see Rick and Jonathan. Uncle Mark was about to go find a place for us to sit down, but when I pointed them out he changed direction, weaving through the crowd ahead of me and Dad.

Dad sat down next to Rick and I sat on his other side. The seats at the bar were tall enough that getting up on them was an issue for me, and after a moment of struggling, Dad offered his foot for me to step on as a boost. Once I was up, Dad muttered his drink order to the bartender, who poured it for him quickly, and then handed me a glass of water.

Rick was clearly wanting to say something to Dad. Uncle Mark and Jonathan were talking like nothing was wrong, but then again, Uncle Mark had that effect on people, and Jonathan did too. I watched Rick stare at Dad, clearly trying to think of something that would be good with how Uncle Andrew was.

"So, uh, how's your friend?"

Oh dear.

"He had his eyes and his tongue ripped out," Dad snapped. "How would you be?"

I gave Rick a look behind Dad's back and mouthed 'he's just frustrated.' At his best, Dad was never very social outside of the house, and this was hardly him at his best.

We were in the bar for a while. It was noisy, but after a moment became easier to deal with. Different groups of people, some local, some clearly tourists, came in and out, and we waited until a large table had opened up. Over the course of an hour or so, Dad got less snappish, probably in part because he had alcohol, and Uncle Mark even got him to laugh a bit. I sat wedged between the two of them, and even though it was noisy with too many people and echo-y walls, even though the feeling of dread was rolling in my gut now as much as in the sky outside, I felt safe. Dad was smiling, Uncle Mark was making Jonathan, Rick, and two local men who Jonathan knew, laugh.

I took another sip of water, and immediately spat it back out. It wasn't water anymore, I didn't know how. But the consistency had changed; it was a bit thicker, and tasted almost metallic.

I wasn't the only one. Everyone looked around, confused, and finally I saw it:

On my shoe, where some of the drink I had spit out had landed, were a few drops of blood.

As soon as I thought it, Rick dropped his glass. I looked up, and immediately clung to Dad's arm. The fountain… the fountain was still flowing, like nothing was wrong, but instead of clear water pouring down the tiers, red, thick, blood dripped down the sides and splashed out of the fountain bowls.

For a second I didn't know what was happening, and then something flashed into my mind: the Ten Plagues. Waters of Blood.

He was Here.

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 **A/N: Okay, so where have I been? I'm almost done with my master's degree, I'm finishing up my last course and starting to work on my thesis. I've also been dealing with The Depression, which has hit hard, and fast, and can turn a mildly productive day into me laying on the couch staring at the ceiling for three hours. Also I dove head-first into writing for another fandom almost immediately after I posted the last chapter. That fandom became my priority, so when I could be productive for something other than school stuff, it was that.**

 **Anyway, the next chapter will not take nearly a full year, promise!**


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